A chicken house
with a memory.
Soul Chicken started with a stubborn idea — that a piece of fried chicken, done properly, can be as considered as any tasting menu. We brine for twenty-four hours. We dredge twice. We fry in cast iron because it holds heat the way a good kitchen holds a secret.
Hurghada gave us the room. The sea gave us the salt. The late hours gave us our regulars — the divers coming off a night boat, the cab drivers between fares, the families that show up at midnight because a good bird knows no bedtime.
Everything on our short menu earns its spot. The truffle fries exist because someone had to. The wings are lacquered until they shine. The whole roasted bird is dinner for a table, or a very committed dinner for one.
Freshness
Nothing sits. Birds are broken down daily, brined that morning, in the fryer that night.
Crunch
Double-dredge, cast-iron heat, rested on wire. A crust that stays loud from first bite to last.
Hospitality
You come in a stranger, you leave with a story. That's the whole job description.